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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841417">i carry the world on my shoulders (let me hold your heart too)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshden/pseuds/Eshden'>Eshden</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, F/F, Slow Burn, Soulmates, They Are Idiots, alternative universe, because why not, references of past abuse, they are politicians</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:53:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshden/pseuds/Eshden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake leaves Adam and their lifework behind, and accepts Ruby's invitation to temporarily move in with her and her sister Yang. She is ready for the awkward silences, the judgemental looks and unwanted reminders of her past. What she isn't ready for however, is the achingly familiar lines of Yang's palm, how she draws her in and doesn't come out scattered and oh, how it terrifies her.</p><p>(My heart got lost, she thinks of saying, let me find it in your mouth again. I wrote your name in the stars, please guide me home.</p><p>Yang smiles, and maybe she has already counted her losses. Maybe she wants to count stars for once)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I have been working at this for like, a year? I don't even remember, but let's just say I procrastinated a l o t. I don't know how many chapters the story will have since I am totally winging it, but I think about 4 or 5. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is Yang, my older sister.”<br/><br/>Blake nods in acknowledgement, eyes cautiously scanning her surroundings for a sight of red hair. The room is clad in simple white decorations, a million round tables claimed by important names written in cursive. It almost seems like a dream, her wrists aching as if held by handcuffs.<br/><br/>“Blake”, she says, taking the hand extended towards her.<br/><br/>Despite her ‘don’t come near me or I will personally slash your throat’ attitude, Ruby – the leader of The Unity – had insisted on swarming around her; like a small bee around a flower, set on letting it blossom in the dark.<br/><br/>Yang wraps her fingers around her palm, a cage closing in without a key in sight. A smile is plastered on her face, and oh politicians, they never seem to be able to hide in the dark. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back like sunshine dripping onto the earth, unintentionally blending in with the shadows.<br/><br/>She frowns and murmurs, “Have we met before?”<br/><br/>The question fills the room, lavender haunting her nose, her brain, her heart. Yang drowns her but it isn’t like she had imagined, it isn’t death. It is rebirth, history bending until it breaks, until only truth bleeds out.<br/><br/>“I don’t think so”, Blake answers politely, but she is stumbling, streaks of lilac paint mixed with some misplaced touches of red flourishing between her ribs. Her heart beats out of turn, trying to ignite a spark she didn’t know was still alive.<br/><br/><em>Take this map</em>, it whispers, <em>let your scars revel in gold.</em><br/><br/>Ruby pats Yang’s shoulder. “Don’t worry sis, it’s the age. Maybe you saw her at bingo night last week?”<br/><br/>“Ruby, if you are fond of your last two braincells, shut up.”<br/><br/>“That isn’t very politically correct’, Blake remarks, blending herself into the conversation with caution, consequences written in the back of her throat. He would drag her back into his arms if needed, sailing her ship while ignoring the directions of the sea.<br/><br/>“You need to focus on your future”, he whispered in her ear, red seeping onto her body, nails digging into her flesh. She knows she will trace the crescent marks at night, desperately clinging onto her dedication to the future they would build.<br/><br/>Her memory breaks into reality, a nightmare coming to life without sleep there to protect her.<br/><br/>“My love, there you are”, his voice echoes in her ears. “It’s time.”<br/><br/>Time for what, she almost asks, but his gaze following the podium is an answer on itself. “Oh?”, Adam raises his eyebrows in feigned surprise, outlining Ruby’s silhouette. “I see you still haven’t gotten rid of that girl.”<br/><br/>It is a statement, words spat out like darts, tracing Blake’s veins like an anchor to hold onto. He labelled her a soldier and brought her to the war, but now she doesn’t remember which side to fight for, where to bury her loyalty like bodies filling mass graves.<br/><br/>Ruby grimaces, a storm catching up with the planet turning, a disaster waiting to happen. The usual spark in her silver eyes fades away - Adam’s presence ripping through her face - a sharp smile on display.<br/><br/>Blake blinks against the whiplash.<br/><br/>Ruby is smouldering, and she finally understands why the media sketches her as an ember ready to start a fire. Blake had always considered Adam to be powerful, but no, it was this. It was daring to step out of a crowd, scratching your flaws into the sky but not looking down, using your hands as a shield and not a weapon.<br/><br/>It was carrying the weight of the world, but still refusing to slow down.<br/><br/>“Maybe you should learn how to read, then you can look something up about respect”, Ruby says, and Blake has never seen her like this, like knives sticking out of the back of a traitor, the decision falling upon history to distinguish saviour from sinner.<br/><br/>“He is not worth it, Ruby”, Yang interrupts, draping an arm around her sister’s knotted shoulders.<br/><br/>She flashes a smile in Blake’s direction, lilac meeting amber in a soundless apology. “It was nice meeting you, Blake”, Yang says before disappearing in the crowd, red and yellow blending in with grey.<br/><br/>Adam gently strokes her hair, a crooked smile pulling on the corners of his mouth, victory displayed in the lines of his mask. Her heart is ripping itself apart, but she knows how to glue the pieces, where to let the blood meet the earth.<br/><br/>“We should go claim our crown, darling”, Adam urges her, his hand outstretched.<br/><br/><em>Your </em>crown, Blake corrects him, and the light at the end of the tunnel flickers and washes out. She can’t remember how to move her fingertips, the tears of a boy disguised as a gun resurfacing in her mind.<br/><br/>She curls her hand around his, the cage enclosing her starting to show some cracks. Their names reflect in the glass of priceless chandeliers, applause welling up before she can manage to scream.<br/><br/>“Okay.”<br/><br/><strong><em>---</em></strong><br/><br/>“Are you sure it is okay?”<br/><br/>The question cuts through the silence hanging in the car. Blake fidgets with the hem of her shirt, the specific scent belonging to stores entrenched into the material. The weather in Washington is merciless, and Ruby had taken one look at her long black jeans and purple sweater before dragging her into the mall.<br/><br/>“I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, Blake. We both know the risks”, Ruby answers, waving her doubts away with a reassuring smile.<br/><br/>Blake bites her lip. “I don’t want to burden you.”<br/><br/>Ruby’s eyes flick over her, sunglasses hooked upon her collar reflecting the lilac streaks of the sky. “We may have had our differences in the past, but – we are friends. And I would never let anything happen to you.”<br/><br/>Letting go of the gearshift Ruby’s fingers fathom over the top of her hand, and Blake thinks of campfires, stars on a desperate night, cement slipping in between the cracks of the pavement. The Volvo’s tinted windows act as a shield and she finds herself yearning at the touch.<br/><br/>“Okay”, Blake murmurs, doesn’t know how to express vulnerability without her ribs stitched together. “Thank you.”<br/><br/>“I should be thanking you! Yang and I have been stuck with each other for <em>way </em>too long. We are bored, can’t stand the sight of the other”,  Ruby says, a sparkle in the corner of her eye swallowing sunlight.<br/><br/>“I actually moved to a separate side of the house, just to evade seeing her in the morning with her monstrous bed hair.”<br/><br/>Blake grins. “The sacrifices you make for love. Guess I will have to live in the basement.”<br/><br/>“It’s for the best”, Ruby answers seriously until she lapses into laughter. The car makes a turn and light resurfaces from behind a cloud, and it’s hard not to comment on the poetic layers unravelling her skin.<br/><br/>“So, what is Yang like?”</p><p>Ruby accelerates and puts the car in cruise control, shifting into a more comfortable position. Her fingers tap softly to the rhythm of the wheels turning. “She is one of the best people I know, and I don’t mean that in, like, a cheesy way.”<br/><br/>Her gaze quickly falls on Blake, silver crossing gold in mutual understanding.<br/><br/>“I love her so much”, she continues. “Everyone does – everyone who is sane at least. Yang has a big heart and a kind spirit, and her shoulders have carried so much weight. They still do.”<br/><br/><em>Her shoulders have carried so much weight, they still do.<br/></em><br/>Blake is reminded of their first meeting, already more than two years ago, but the memory is still fresh, how Yang had led Ruby away from Adam, her face open but eyes fierce and strong.<br/><br/><em>A warning, </em>she had thought. A warning to keep hurt far away from her family, and Blake saw the dedication of a mother bear protecting her cub, teaching it to hide behind her whenever the pain threatens to rip them apart, acting as the small stroke of land dividing two seas, keeping them from meeting and exploding.<br/><br/>Ruby observes her reaction carefully, and she is transported back to that day at the beach, where she had stared and stared and stared at the sea, imprinting the way the waves hit the sand into her soul, fascinated by its freedom and inability to be controlled.<br/><br/>It was frighteningly addicting to imagine building a stairway into heaven, waves an unshakeable fundament, but Blake got lost on the way, encountering a new way of justice but it never seemed to fit in her hands.</p><p>“She could break you into a million pieces, but she chooses not to. That is what makes her the strongest person I know”, Ruby finished.<br/><br/>Her thoughts drift to another kind of strength, the one that slashes and burns and breaks down, the type that hurts only to enhance itself. Spite, Blake thinks bitterly, it was a murderer in disguise, excuses littering the path build upon corpses.<br/><br/>“I look forward to seeing her again”, Blake offers, and it is enough.<br/><br/>Ruby hums and they allow the silence to take its place again, both trapped inside their own mind. It was different, Blake realises, whether or not you allow light to creep through the curtains. Love flows in Ruby’s veins, waterfalls catching instead of drowning. Love set her free, and might she fall, love would still be there, sinking into the ground, nourishing the earth.<br/><br/>Blake can’t help but laugh at their unlike definitions of love.<br/><br/><em>Where does it hurt? Everywhere, everywhere</em> she cries. Love presses down on her, paralysing her, its grip too tight to form a life out of. The figure in the mirror throws her off her game, repeating a heart she had never heard of.<br/><br/>Sometimes it takes fear to open your eyes. Blake had been angry at a world she had never fully taken in, met the dark corners and a highway out and closed her eyes during the journey. Hands wrap around her throat and she kisses every single knuckle until the mirror shatters and they bleed red.<br/><br/><em>Stay</em>, she begs, but can only watch as the blood drips onto the floor, like photographing rain falling down on the earth, the numbness creating a paradox decided in between heartbeats.<br/><br/>I know the risks of gambling, she says while plunging a knife between her ribs, and the skeleton behind her takes her hand, drops a dice into it. We know, it answers, but maybe you should stop clawing at your skin and expecting flowers to grow out of the scars.<br/><br/><strong><em>---<br/></em></strong>“You are a coward”, Adam whispers in her ear. His voice is absent, but she still trembles under the gaze of loveless blue. His tie is somewhere on the floor, white blouse unbuttoned to show a trail of lipstick drawn onto his chest.<br/><br/>With a hand on his back Blake leads him back to their room, his fingers closing the gap between skin and cotton. Adam had always been like this, someone who had to witness his results, savouring bruises and scars and holes in the walls. It reminds her of the bottles in the sink, a shattering so violent she could only stand and stare.<br/><br/><em>President Adam Taurus and vice-president Blake Belladonna<br/><br/></em>Blake had expected it to become better, but Adam stumbled further into the lust for power and the fear of losing it. Within a few weeks, he had transformed the sword of justice into a crown placed upon his head, but kings always collapsed and Adam was too naïve to see the signs, too heavily reliant upon the protection his position brought him.<br/><br/>“You are made up out of the pieces I broke.” Adam’s smile flicks like the edge of a knife. “I am your definition.”<br/><br/>She swallows, his hand curled around her chest. Adam’s words linger in the air, like a door slammed in her face, emptiness hiding under her nails.<br/><br/>There was terror and blood and lies, and then there was Adam, who caressed her cheek and told her he loved her, who used love as an excuse to draw out heartbeats, anger bleeding out of his eyes instead of adoration, but cried when she tried to leave.<br/><br/>There was love, and then there was Adam.<br/><br/>And just like love, Adam fell.<br/><strong><br/><em>---</em><br/><br/></strong>The wooden house is built on top of one of the hills overlooking the city, large windows granting its owner a breath-taking sight to wake up to. Hundreds of pictures are scattered throughout the house, hanging onto the walls, scrapbooks displayed in bookshelves, bulletin boards pinning down smiles.<br/><br/>Blake knows of their tragedies, but it is crushing to watch people disappear and never come back to take their place. She wonders what it is like to be knocked down and land on your back, how it feels to observe the sky without leaving your pieces on the ground.<br/><br/>“We are home!”, Ruby exclaims, throwing her keys onto the table on their right.<br/><br/>Yang – blonde hair thrown up in a ponytail with a few strands framing her face and lilac eyes sparkling – emerges from the room right across from them. Her fingers are calloused and a soft humming sounds from behind her, and Blake is reminded of Yang’s role in The Unity, how she straightens out her spine and spins ideals into executable plans.<br/><br/>A smile pulls on the corners of her face as she pulls her sister in for a hug. “ I have been wondering whether you got lost or just didn’t feel like keeping your dear old sister company”, Yang says, ruffling Ruby’s hair.<br/><br/>“Yang, knock it off will ya!”, Ruby groans while trying to push her sister off. “We have got a guest, please attempt to act normal for like, one hour.”<br/><br/>“No promises.”<br/><br/>Yang kisses the top of Ruby’s head, her hands prone to circle around her sister, melting her veins into bandages. “Blake! It is nice to see you again”, she smiles warmly as she turns her head. “I hope Ruby didn’t traumatize you too much, she’s a brat.”<br/><br/>“Hey!”<br/><br/>“Sometimes it is better that way, ripping the bandage off at once”, Blake says smugly, mouthing Ruby an apology she half-heartedly accepts.<br/><br/>Yang laughs, covers her neck as if on instinct. It is a beat, a familiarity. She reaches for it, but grabs a hold of hollow air instead, gold and purple the epitome of lost and found. A river pools into lifelines, lifetimes, but they are too far gone to trace, a tattoo too faded to decipher.<br/><br/>Blake stumbles onto the deck, the sight of waves crashing against the ship foreign. She slips her hands onto the stir, but the sunset drapes shadow on her face and she can’t translate the scars burned into the wood into a way home.<br/><br/>“True, I guess I should apologize for raising such a monster.”<br/><br/>Her necklace rattles against her chest and her eyes soften. You don’t know, Blake thinks, you don’t know what I would do for you. I would break the ends of the universe, force it to expand just to allow you to hold my hand.<br/><br/>Ruby jumps on Yang’s back, fingers digging into her sides. Oh, how you get used to the definition of together, how your individuality becomes a stranger to yourself. Ruby and Yang crash into the couch in the living room and one of Ruby’s speeches echoes in her ears, Yang next to her like a buoy, glass before it shatters.<br/><br/>Fall down, she started and confusion bounced off of the walls. Fall down, it doesn’t matter as long as you land on your back. Don’t be afraid to expose your wounds, to let someone else’s tears help you heal, because the one thing we have to protect is our relationships, our bonds with other people.<br/><br/>They will lead you back to yourself time after time, so fall, but do it together.<br/><br/>Adam had grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to his chest. “You heard her, we have to stay together Blake.” A pause. “Or do you want me to fall alone?”<br/><br/>“Ruby get off of me or I swear I won’t buy you any presents.”<br/><br/>Ruby gasps. “You wouldn’t!”<br/><br/>“Watch me.”<br/><br/>Yang’s face resurfaces as she lets Ruby fall onto the ground, stepping back to Blake’s side. She dusts off her shoulders, flexing her biceps slightly as if to emphasize her victory.<br/><br/>“Go do something useful, you punk.”<br/><br/>Ruby crawls up, eyes brightening when they fall on Blake, who laughs nervously. “I will show Blake around. At least she doesn’t think I’m a monster.”<br/><br/>“Incorrect”, Blake answers.<br/><br/>Ruby passes over her jab, completely focussing on her new mission. “Okay, you have already seen the kitchen and living room. Over there-“, she gestures to the glass doors in the back of the living room, “is our television room and Yang’s office, which is off-limits for reasons we can’t allow to be known outside our inner circle.”</p><p>Blake’s gaze darts back to Yang, who shrugs and mouth <em>just go with it.</em><br/><br/>It’s easy, Blake realizes, the dying. Ruby grabs her hand and leads her across rooms, spluttering facts and memories. She tries to keep her attention fixed on her but fails, spinning deeper into her own thoughts; laying out rocks like collateral damage, like the aftermath of a mourning.<br/><br/>Living is the real challenge, Blake thinks; how to navigate the stories carved into our bones, how to be defined by our eyes instead of our hands. Adam had taught her to fear endless sleep, but maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe she should fear not living to the fullest, going to sleep without having to rub tears out of your eyes.<br/><br/>“And finally we arrive at the highlight of our tour! At least-“, Ruby glances over her shoulder, “for you. Welcome to your room, Blake.”<br/><br/>Ruby lets herself fall down onto the made bed, her feet slightly kicking the air. The room is huge for her standards: a desk tucked into the bottom left corner, a queen sized bed directly opposing it and a door to the right leading to her own bathroom. <em><br/><br/></em>Blake lowers her chin to her chest, her hands shaking, not used to kindness without fingers keeping track of favours.<br/><br/>She launches one of her bags – which were waiting for her next to the desk - at Ruby’s face. The latter catches it just in time, but the momentum of the bag crashes into her and she lands on her back with a surprised yelp.<br/><br/>“Blake Belladonna!”, Ruby curses, leaning up onto her elbows. “You could have killed me! Or even worse, ruined my perfect face; I still have to get those posters done for the upcoming elections, mind you.”<br/><br/>“I guess you should work on your reflexes then. This is the work of an amateur.”<br/><br/>“My reflexes are fine, thank you for your concern", Ruby answers with a puff and launches herself off the bed, heading for the doorpost.<br/><br/>“Ruby?”, Blake calls. “Thank you.”<br/><br/>Ruby turns around and her arms open like it is the only thing she has ever known to do, doesn’t remember encountering a bleeding heart and not putting her hands on the wound.<br/><br/>Blake steps forward, hesitant, but Ruby’s eyes pull her closer. She wraps her arms around her neck, freezes but then buries her face in the crook of Ruby’s neck, heartbeat steady in the middle of decluttering and becoming again.<br/><br/>“Dinner will be ready soon”, Ruby says softly. “But take your time getting settled in, you don’t want to stare Yang’s creations in the eye without being fully prepared.”<br/><br/>“I will see you at dinner”, Blake answers. “I surely can’t miss the cooking of our master chef.”<br/><br/>“May the odds be ever in your favour”, Ruby says in a high pitched voice, laughter following her into the hallway as she leaves.<br/><br/><strong><em>---</em><br/><br/></strong>“A fair warning: in this house we honour pasta as our Lord and saviour, so you better get used to it”, Yang declares with a wink, blonde hair out of its ponytail and freely flowing down her back.<br/><br/>The dining table stands at the edge of the kitchen, the two enormous windows in the living area granting them a magnificent view of the city below. The lights flicker on as the day reaches its end, like reaching a starry night sky without having to confront the moon.<br/><br/>“So, Blake.”<br/><br/>Her name rolls off Yang’s tongue like a welcome matt being dusted off, like she remembers writing it in the corners of her notebook. They are standing in a valley between two mountains, looming over them and casting shadows, but she needs the sovereignty, the insistence of fine lines.<br/><br/>Yang makes her way along the kitchen island, scooping pasta drenched in sauce up on three plates, adding a certainly unhealthy amount of cheese. She sits next to Blake, her eyes darting between Blake’s and it feels like being glued shut.<br/><br/>“Where are you from?”<br/><br/><em>Don’t wait for me to come home</em>, she remembers writing, teardrops streaking down her cheeks while condolence hides in arms who can no longer hold her. <em>I don’t think I even remember the way</em>.<br/><br/>“Menagerie.”<br/><br/>Blake pricks into her food, the silence weighing her down. “My parents- they were politicians there, but we travelled a lot.”<br/><br/>“Menagerie! I have seen pictures of it and it is absolutely gorgeous”,  Ruby says with a warm smile, but it fades away as her memory trips on a black page. “If you temporarily forget about its origin, that is.”<br/><br/>“Yeah”, Blake murmurs.<br/><br/>Menagerie was supposed to be a safe haven for the Faunus, but it had become a bargain to fake peace, finding your way but never learning how to read maps. It was like politics, cameras pressing spines together to keep the show going, smiles a tad too wide and an inch too much distance between skins.<br/><br/>“So, you followed in your parents footsteps, right?”, Ruby asks, trying to untangle the knot in her stomach.<br/><br/>“Sort of, it was more of a feeling of responsibility I guess. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing”, Blake sighs. “Corruption, inequality… Someone has to do something about it.”<br/><br/>She knows it was about taking control, about creating the illusion of change and instilling it with her own hands. Adam had helped her climb up the stairs, but she didn’t realise where that final stand would lead her, how white walls wouldn’t stop burning behind her eyes.<br/><br/>“I get it”, Ruby says, her hands balling into fists for a second. “Yang used to read me fairy tales when we were kids, stories about heroes saving the day and- after what happened to mom, I knew I had to try. Try to be like them.”<br/><br/>Blake watches as Yang’s gaze automatically slips to Ruby, knows she will follow her sister wherever she goes, her bones acting as pillars. It wasn’t her ground, her spotlight, but she would never turn her back on people who need her.<br/><br/>“The real world isn’t a fairy tale”, Blake says, tenderness creeping up in her throat. “But that’s why we are here. To make it better.”<br/><br/>“Fuck yeah!”, Yang exclaims, pumping her fist in the air.<br/><br/>“Language!”, Ruby scolds, grabbing their empty plates and putting them away in the dishwasher.<br/><br/>Yang rolls her eyes, shares a smirk with Blake. “That’s how you can tell the difference between a good and a bad politician”, she whispers, like sharing secrets, polishing doorknobs until you remember they aren’t coming back.<br/><br/>Blake leans forward on her hand, tilting her head slightly to emphasize interest. “A good one just says whatever the fuck in on their mind?”<br/><br/>Ruby groans while Yang’s laughter rings in her ears. “You two are going to be the death of me.”<br/><br/>Gold meets lilac and Blake arches her eyebrow, Yang shrugging in response. Familiarity is clawing its way out between her ribs, her heart insisting it has felt this ambiance before, but the translation is lost in the hollow spaces of the distance between their souls.<br/><br/>“Thanks Rubes, I have always wanted to add murderer onto my cv.”<br/><br/>Ruby narrows her eyes and grabs Yang into a headlock. “I will mess up your hair, don’t test me!”<br/><br/>“Oh no, please all mighty Ruby, spare me!”, Yang begs. “Blake, save me!”<br/><br/>Blake watches them and tries to ignore the warm feeling settling in her chest.<br/><br/><strong><em>---</em><br/><br/></strong>“Blake!”<br/><br/>Her door slams open and Ruby sprints into her room, cold air following closely behind, playfully pushing against the chocolate wrapper next to her.<br/><br/>“Ruby”, Blake says, turning around in her desk chair as Ruby plops down on her bed. “Did you finally manage to get in again?”<br/><br/>“Please don’t bring it up, I am trying to forget about having to stand in front of the window and seeing Yang almost pee her pants because of laughter.”<br/><br/>“So I am currently helping to hide a fugitive? Great”, Blake answers and Ruby sticks her tongue out.<br/><br/>Her ears flicker slightly in amusement. She had finished unpacking after dinner, and quickly discovered the room had even more storage room than she had expected. Ruby traces her walls, the splattering of poetry and art. Blake had taken one picture with her, hung it above her desk as an anchor, and Ruby is staring at it, but knows better than to peel back any more layers today.  <br/><br/>Then her eye falls on the desk, or better, what is displayed on it.<br/><br/>“You ate her chocolate, you did it”, Ruby whispers, her voice chains rattling against the walls of old prison cells, and Blake vows she sees a red dot hoovering between her eyes. <em><br/><br/>Blake Belladonna: brutally murdered because of war crimes; the victories against our greatest enemy – ourselves - lead to our final acts of defeat.</em><br/><br/>“Ruby, I swear if I don’t find it-“, Yang’s voice sounds from the hallway.<br/><br/>“I didn’t do it! I have proof!”, Ruby cuts her off, smirking apologetically at Blake.<br/><br/>Blake tackles the girl, tickling her sides and throws her on the bed behind them, stuffing her under the blankets like a lobster trapped in boiling water. Ruby splutters and tries to wrestle free, but ultimately decides to accept her fate.<br/><br/>The door opens, revealing Yang, wearing black sweats with a matching yellow and black crop top, one side casually slipping down her shoulder. She scans the room, pausing at the sight of the chocolate wrapper, her eyes narrowing.<br/><br/>“You”, she whispers, pointing at Blake, who feels like she is about to be executed.<br/><br/>The room holds its breath when their hands touch. Blake had never understood electricity, the way it was advertised as love, but now she felt like lightning itself.<br/><br/>“Hey! Where are we going?”<br/><br/>Yang looks over her shoulder. The streets illuminate her and Blake finds clearance, never thought the city would lead her to something brighter; like even the universe acknowledges gold spilling, the sky breaking into lavender.<br/><br/>“You ate my chocolate and I really need a bar.”<br/><br/>“Period?”, Blake asks with a grin.<br/><br/>“Yeah, guess we can suffer together. This is the beginning of an amazing friendship.”<br/><br/>“Actually, our friendship starts after I have received a replacement for the chocolate you ate”, she adds sarcastically, sending her a wink for reassurance, and all Blake can think about is how Yang slips her hand out of hers. <strong><br/><br/><em>---<br/></em></strong><em><br/></em>Yang turned out to be right: they fell into friendship like she used to don masks, but Yang is a beacon of light and she can’t help but trace the edge of her mouth, how she bares her throat without fear darkening her eyes.</p><p>She is taught the definition of love in a totally different perspective; it’s a hummingbird spreading its wings, not clipping them to keep it on the ground. I am a dreamer, Blake had once told Yang, and she had smiled.<br/><br/>I know, Yang answered, you would live in the space of possibility if you could. And that is a good thing.<br/><br/>Blake hadn’t known what to say without letting the sun filter love into her eyes, so she grabbed Yang’s hand and squeezed softly, hoped it was enough. Instead light caught Yang’s gaze, let it burrow trust in the ground before them. That’s Yang, Blake realized, the steadiness beneath her feet, someone to stay on the earth for.<br/><br/>It was getting well into three months since her arrival and purple had begun to find its way into the colour scheme, accents blending with gold and red, filling a gap they had never even noticed to be there.<br/><br/>It looks complete, Ruby had said, arms stretching behind her head.<br/><br/>“Blake?”<br/><br/>Ruby’s head pokes around the corner, catching Blake out of her thoughts, laptop carefully balanced on her lap. “Yeah?”<br/><br/>“Want to go with us to pick up Weiss? It’s a nightmare to grab a cab around this time and Weiss gets really grumpy.” Ruby pulls a face. “It’s horrible, for both sides.”<br/><br/>Weiss Schnee, ex-heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, infamous for its shady business partners and controversial labour forces. She had seen her several times at high profile events, standing proudly beside her father, but over time her back lost its strength. It had taken her several years, but Weiss managed to escape the chains of her family name, abandoning her prestige standing in the process, replacing it with something new, something softer.<br/><br/>“Sure, do I need to change into something else for the princess?”<br/><br/>Once, she had spoken to Weiss.<br/><br/>The Schnee crest no longer stained her clothes, defiance written in the slope of her jaw. She had been too caught up in revolution - in Adam’s justice - to notice Weiss’ open hands, how her chin challenged prejudice and inequality. She had grown up in corruption, but hadn’t let it taint her eyes.<br/><br/>Weiss had joined The Unity and soon became one of its most valued members, a bundle of integrity and audacity. She completed them, became the compass to their passion, the reason behind their voices, the edge to their knives. It was in her blood, Blake supposed. When you grow up on a battlefield, you can’t help but become a war too.<br/><br/>“No, you are fine. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you otherwise, though, I am used to your tramp look”, Ruby teases, disappearing out of the room before a pillow could hit her.<br/><br/>“Asshole!”, Blake calls after her, only getting a soft chuckle in response.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 2! Thank you for all of the support and I hope you like this chapter too ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Blake Belladonna”, Weiss greeted her. They had exchanged looks across the room, cataloguing the change in company on Weiss’ side. She seemed warmer, her back straighter and smile a little less curled around the edges.<br/>
<br/>
Adam’s presence lingered on Blake’s skin, her throat digging itself into a graveyard; she left an innocent child in the parking lot, forgot to breath in vulnerability and dropped it on her way to the stars.<br/>
<br/>
<em>I would take a bullet for you</em>, Adam had told her, but he doesn’t understand, can’t remember his heartbeat as a mirror. You are the gun, Blake wanted to scream. She wondered what it was like, to wake up covered in smoke and not know whose ashes you burned.<br/>
<br/>
“Weiss Schnee”, Blake said, the last name spat out like poison.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, how we intertwine our threads, marking others as traitors and fathoming ourselves martyrs. The river follows her but she doesn’t remember why, only that she went to sleep a victim and woke up like this.<br/>
<br/>
Weiss fumbled with the sleeve of her dress, a beautiful dark green forming a contrast with her sky blue eyes. Healing, Blake thought; she is a wildfire, the ashes, the rebirth.<br/>
<br/>
“I just- I am not going to become him.” Her eyes shone with belief. “I am going to fight to make sure we can stand together on a basis of equality. I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake’s gaze skipped to her right eye, thought about scars and how they got used as disguises, bruises flourishing like flowers in spring. “What does a Schnee know about equality?”, she snapped, the light in Weiss’ eyes flickering.<br/>
<br/>
Weiss flinched, but recovered, pointing her chin forward like danger. Her hands were noticeably shaking and she eyed the glasses handed out by waiters.<br/>
<br/>
“Enough to know about burdens.” She lowered her voice, bending slightly towards Blake. “You don’t have to stay with him, you aren’t-“<br/>
<br/>
“I am not a <em>traitor</em>”, Blake interrupted her. “Unlike some of us.” She caught Adam’s resentful grimace in the crowd and walked away, leaving forgiveness on the doorstep once again.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>---</em><br/>
</strong><br/>
Weiss catches her off-guard one evening with a knock on her door. It has been two days and years of memories. Weiss is a reminder, a living ghost of her past, and she can’t shake his anger enough to apologize, to reach out and mend.<br/>
<br/>
“Come in”, she calls. She knows somehow, and closes her laptop, green flashing through her mind. <em>Healing</em>, she thinks, focusses on the word, lets it become tangible in the form of two sides of the same coin.<br/>
<br/>
Weiss stands in the opening of the door, her pristine white hair up in its trademark ponytail, ruby earrings dangling from her ears and a golden necklace snuggled against the length of her collarbones.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, so she is aware of her influences, remembers where she learnt how to be soft, admits she will follow the silhouette of their heartbeats without any hesitance in her step.<br/>
<br/>
“Would you maybe want to come with me to grab some ice cream?”, Weiss asks, cradling her vulnerability with broken wings. The smears of trust on the walls are too faded to hold, but they can create new bonds, new promises. She just has to open the blinds.<br/>
<br/>
“I would love to.”<br/>
<br/>
They end up parked next to the highway, ice cream in one hand and their hearts in the other. Blake is thrown back to the night she ripped the map to reconciliation, and tears drag down her cheeks. “I am sorry”, she whispers. “I am so sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss looks up and melts into forgiveness. “It’s okay, you couldn’t help it.” And it is everything Blake needs to hear but doesn’t want to.<br/>
<br/>
“No, it- it’s not. You wanted to reach out and I just - just cut you down.” Blake meets her gaze and is startled by the tears in the corners of Weiss’ eyes. She thinks of running, but this time in the right direction.<br/>
<br/>
“You were in a different place, Blake, but you are here now.” Weiss pulls her into a gentle hug, her hand enclosing the back of her head. “You are here now.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake sniffles and buries her head in the crook of her neck. “I am here now.”<em><br/>
<br/>
</em><strong><em>---</em><br/>
<br/>
</strong>Blake steps into the kitchen and is surprised with the sight of Yang behind the stove, yellow tank top a spat of colour in the careful light of the morning. It is 7am, nightmares chasing her out of her bed and through the house.<br/>
<br/>
“You are up early”, Blake says. “Did Ruby challenge you again or something?”<br/>
<br/>
She remembers their ridiculous bets, like eating ten plates of food within an hour or hiding as much of Weiss’ stuff around the house without her noticing; the betrayal on Weiss’ face would have easily earned her an Oscar nomination.<br/>
<br/>
Yang turns around and Blake drags her eyes back up to her face, ignoring the way muscles move and stretch. She smiles and the sun appears behind them, like it knows the way alongside castles, alongside space, knows the way it calls.<br/>
<br/>
“Not Ruby this time, I’m afraid; just some road renovations keeping me up.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake nods in sympathy, swirling through the kitchen and landing at Yang’s side. She would always end up here, she thinks, composing her love through a song. Oh a song, she could probably fill an album, maybe two, maybe lifetimes of them.<br/>
<br/>
She wraps her arms around Yang’s waist and feels the vibrations of her laugh. “The pancakes are burning, step aside Belladonna.” In response she tightens her hold, and Yang laughs again, turns around and pins her hands behind her back.<br/>
<br/>
The loss of control paralyzes her, makes her eyes dart between Yang’s in a search for anger, doesn’t know how to hide in the dark without nursing wounds.<br/>
<br/>
Blake is baffled when Yang releases her, a tender hand at her cheek a silent apology. She leans forward, lips at the shell of her ear, hands dragging down her waist. “You can always touch me, except for when I am making pancakes, okay?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake shivers, lingering on the warmth of Yang’s breath, how her hands palm her hips. She has never felt this before, wants to slide her fingers into Yang’s hair and-<br/>
<br/>
“Ugh, stop flirting.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss drops down on one of their chairs, hair up in a messy bun and clad in a simple nightgown. “Stupid roadworkers, who let them come here so early?”<br/>
<br/>
“Politicians”, Ruby says, rapidly stealing a pancake right from the pan. Yang curses as she slowly moves away from Blake, and Weiss sighs, the tip of her knife mere hair strands away from Ruby’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“I will literally kill you if you let this happen again”, she threatens, and Ruby’s eyes widen while she falls into the chair next to her, clutching to Weiss’ wrist as one would hang onto a piece of wood in an endless ocean.<br/>
<br/>
“You wouldn’t, you love me too much.”<br/>
<br/>
“I am soulless, I don’t love anyone”, Weiss grumbles, not moving her knife an inch away.<br/>
<br/>
“You are not, I saw the way you looked at that dog yesterday. Everyone has a soul, Weiss.”<br/>
<br/>
“Great, I can sell mine on eBay.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang scoffs. “I didn’t know you did charity work, Weiss.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss’ eyes narrow, her knife shifting towards Yang. “Working with you is enough of a sacrifice.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake laughs, and meets Yang’s gaze. The world seems to stop, like the universe takes a breath in anticipation, Yang’s warmth ghosting over her skin. Her ribcage is burning, like an arrow on Cupids bow, like a signpost leading a lost adventurer back home.<br/>
<br/>
Isn’t it strange, Blake thinks, how we coat ourselves in metaphors just to escape the truth.<br/>
<br/>
She grabs a pancake and drowns it in syrup, earning a disapproving glance from Weiss, and she blows her a kiss in response. “Oh, I got the job at the bookshop.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake had discovered a small bookstore tucked away in the heart of the city a few weeks ago, surprised to find the vacancy hanging on the door. It was perfect, electric candles illuminating the inside, shadows stretching along the thousands of books displayed in old wooden shelves.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s awesome!”, Ruby says, support drenching her words, and Weiss nods in agreement. “I am happy for you”, she adds.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t help but be a bit disappointed”, Yang says with a pout. “I was so sure you would pursue that DJ career!”<br/>
<br/>
Blake kicks her under the table. “Too much competition. How could I ever be better than DJ Mon(k)ey Maker?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sun’s music is a hazard to society”, Weiss remarks in a dry voice, and they all lapse into laughter.<br/>
<br/>
This is family, Blake realizes; open fields with flowers blooming and knowing looks and getting ice cream in the middle of the night. She looks at Yang and thinks of tracing lifelines, maps, photographs. The world is spinning around them and they run from it, a home carved out of oceans and stardust, fragments still capturing light.<br/>
<br/>
Yang’s smile stretches and for one second, Blake allows herself to believe she feels the same.<br/>
<em><br/>
<strong>---</strong></em></p><p>The four of them are spread out on the couch, glass doors next to them reflecting the last rays of sun spilling down. They had long stopped paying attention to the movie playing, voices acting as white noise.<br/>
<br/>
Ruby yawns and Weiss stirs from her nap on Ruby’s shoulder. “I am going to bed, morning meetings are the <em>worst.”</em> She slips one of her hands under Weiss’ knees, the other supporting her back. “I’ll take this one with me.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang kisses the both of them on the forehead and Blake offers a short wave.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s weird, seeing her all responsible”, Yang murmurs as she takes her place next to Blake again, smiling when she hears a loud noise and Ruby cursing. “As responsible as it gets, at least.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake turns her head, leaning her neck on the back of the couch. “Ruby used to be a troublemaker?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, just more of a wild one. Always climbing trees and leading us towards <em>adventure</em>”, Yang laughs, her hands spread on her knees like a shield. Blake knows she would never admit her tendency to treasure silver, her spine arching to evade bleeding out her loneliness.<br/>
<br/>
“I would end up kissing her abrasions, rocking her until she could finally fall asleep. Instead of out of trees.” A pause. “Wonderful times in which the placebo-effect still worked, am I right?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake chuckles. “I wouldn’t know, only child.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so you’re a monster. Got it.”<br/>
<br/>
“You bitch!”, Blake curses, slapping her arm gently, Yang sticking out her tongue. She thinks of capturing her lips, worshipping her with her bones pulsing.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Here, </em>she thinks, <em>I wrote your name in the stars, a plea to guide me home. My heart got lost, let me find it in your mouth again</em><br/>
<br/>
Yang links their fingers, thumb drawing circles on the top of her hand. <em>Touch me, </em>Blake wants to beg. <em>Even though you have done nothing but built me up, I need to feel you once again.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Hey”, she calls out softly. “How are you? I know- your nightmares. They are getting worse, aren’t they?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake freezes, her veins laid out like guidelines to her heart, and Yang is coming close to tracing them, the blue submerging into purple. She knows how it changed, remembers red infiltrating and intertwining, but how did it turn into something so fragile, so beautiful?<br/>
<br/>
Her memory is aching, spotlights blinding her until she is stumbling through shadows. “I-“, Blake stammers, her throat closing around the illusion of freedom.<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t have to tell me”, Yang interrupts, but Blake shakes her head. She wants to unearth the damage shoved in her pockets, needs to circle the empty bottles in the sink, the bundles of abuse covered in a layer of gold.<br/>
<br/>
Blake takes a shaky breath. “I want to.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang squeezes her hand in encouragement, thumb never stopping its path along her skin. A door closed, but unlocked. Her other arm sneaks around her waist, rubbing up and down her back.<br/>
<br/>
“He found me when I was 12. He was so sure of himself, of his righteousness, his morals lining up with my passions for equality. I thought we could change the world.”<br/>
<br/>
Ruins of her youth press down on her, waves of anger and guilt flooding until it immobilizes her lungs, her tendons, the seams in her skin. She is always trying to mend the pieces, to convince everyone she is whole; hands move to act as pillars, but her fingers can’t run along strength anymore, she wouldn’t even recognize it.<br/>
<br/>
“Instead, he was the one who changed, like he went to sleep and some part never woke up again”, Blake says with a trembling voice, echoes of staircases dwindling down imprisoning her mind.<br/>
<br/>
“I left everything behind for him, for our dream. I- I never even got to say goodbye.”<br/>
<br/>
Her feet are rooted in justice, but maybe she misplaced her shovel, can’t help but memorize the outlines of selfishness. Her reflection is nothing but sharp and blood and death. Blake tried to kill the murderer inside of her, but she keeps waking up with a knife in her hands.</p><p>Yang’s heartbeat presses against her, fingers counting the ripples of her spine and the imprint of air warm in her hair.<br/>
<br/>
“I get it”, Yang says, pressing her cheek on top of Blake’s head. “Ruby is- not my full sister. My mom abandoned me shortly after I was born, Summer died and Tai just… shut down.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>I write my own tragedies, </em>she seems to whisper,<em> let me bleed along your edges.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Blake swears she can feel the indent of Yang’s soul throbbing in her chest, a beat she should remember dancing to, a colour drenched that deeply into her skin that she became it too.</p><p>“I never knew what hurt more: losing someone completely or having to live with the phantom that took their place”, Yang says. “I just- I want you to know that I understand, and that I’m here for you. I won’t leave.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake wants to run but her presence is etched into the fundaments of these hills, a mausoleum dedicated to wandering souls. She lifts their hands and places featherlight kisses on the outside of Yang’s, almost unable to translate the concept of immovable, immortal, into a worthy vow her own, opting to love instead.<br/>
<br/>
“You are life”, Blake says, allows the past to unfurl its fingers and let go.<br/>
<br/>
Yang tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, lost and found scratched into her eyelids; the walls, tv, couch, they are all drenched in purple. She doesn’t understand how she has ever been able to live without it.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, then you must be purpose”, she answers in a soft voice.<br/>
<br/>
Truth is tearing them apart but they have always been talented at erasing, ignoring, covering it with paint. The house is creaking with inevitability, their foreheads drifting together like trees growing into a forest, water streaming until it forms an ocean.<br/>
<br/>
Blake touches her cheek and Yang’s eyes flutter close. A leak in her veins is bleeding love instead of blood, and she presses her lips to the skin hidden there.<br/>
<br/>
<em>What if we are wrong</em>, she wants to scream, <em>what if this is just another bad decision stretching into habits?</em><br/>
<br/>
And Yang drops her head to Blake’s shoulder like a resignation.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>---</em></strong><br/>
<br/>
<em>You are so strong<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Strong? Strong?!”, Yang yells, her knees buckling under the weight of the frightening familiarity found in Blake’s eyes, her arms castles she remembers sheltering her heart in. They tore down the beast, but didn’t realise she placed every broken piece of her soul into its hands, gold scorching until she couldn’t fathom a monochrome world anymore.<br/>
<em><br/>
</em>Broken bones decorate the ground before altars, shattered on the sharp edges of glass, the drum of her heartbeat steady in her ribs; a call for war, something she wasn’t afraid to answer anymore, not after the image of a girl running far far away from her.<br/>
<br/>
<em>I have nothing left to lose</em>, she claims, throwing her hands up as if to reach for the sky.<br/>
<br/>
They shake and transform into loneliness, one side catching metal and kneading it into love. The tale of a heartbroken soldier clustered to her bed, the shape of the sun bending into the face of a man hidden behind a mask, the air in her lungs stoking and disintegrating.<br/>
<br/>
The body of a warrior lifeless on the floor; a shadow beside her, clutching her hand and crying bitter tears of regret, as if the henchmen of death ever dreamt about the blood dripping from their hands.<br/>
<br/>
This one was different, this story was different.<br/>
<br/>
The raven – not her first loss but her third – flew back into her life, like a tornado breaking down her walls, and she let her, but never too close, knowing it had only returned to rest its wings and not to find a place to stay.<br/>
<br/>
She was wrong, oh god was she wrong.<br/>
<br/>
The girl with the gold of ancient times held her hand - the reminder of an everlasting sacrifice, the embodiment of loyalty to the moon - and promised to never leave again. She wrapped her arms around Yang’s neck and cried and cried and cried until only love poured from the cracks between their bodies.<br/>
<br/>
They had finally found an us, and they would never let go again.<br/>
<br/>
She wakes up drenched in sweat, and for one second, Yang allows herself to relish in the familiarity of gold. An ear flicks against her collarbone, the sensation one she can’t exactly place. Looking down, she sees Blake peacefully curled up against her side, head buried into her shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh<br/>
<br/>
</em>Flashes of last night return to her, Blake’s cheeks covered in tears and her heart living in the past; her lips pressed to Yang’s skin like a prayer, love a fine line drawn in the emptiness between them. She slips out of Blake’s hold with utmost care, but she still stirs.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey”, Yang smiles, “I’m going to get us some food, okay?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake yawns, cracks settling into her jaw. “I’ll help”, she says while wiggling closer to Yang, almost as if she needs to make sure she is there, seeking stability like a ring carved around her finger.<br/>
<br/>
Yang can’t help but snort in response. “You’re not allowed to set even one more step into this kitchen.”<br/>
<br/>
“How rude, I’m a great cook.”<br/>
<br/>
“If you aspire to set the house on fire, then yes.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake pouts, and Yang wants to taste it on her lips, wants to curse the universe for creating a love it never meant to release. “You are just mad the house will be hotter than you”, she answers while dragging herself and Yang to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
Yang laughs, cupping Blake’s cheek with tenderness spilling out, like water breaking the dam. “I already have you, haven’t I?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake smiles, letting her head fall softly against Yang’s shoulder, bridges finally connecting instead of burning, the warmth settling in her bones instead of fleeting around.<br/>
<strong><br/>
</strong>They break apart and Yang grimaces at the sight of Blake getting close to the toaster. “Alright Blake, do you want to help me with preparing breakfast?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake nods cutely, her hands working on pulling her sleeves up, a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. “Please pour me a drink and stay the hell away.”<br/>
<br/>
She anticipates the punch on her arm, but lets it happen anyway. Maybe that is what love is: granting them your future even when you know how it will end.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>---</em></strong><br/>
<br/>
Yellow flows into her room, tangling her thoughts into red thread, and Blake relaxes as lilac eyes drift towards hers. “Hey, I brought you some tea.”<br/>
<br/>
She smiles and pushes her glasses further up her nose. The words on her screen had long ago become a blurring mess and she was grateful for the interruption. “Yang, you are promoted to my best friend starting now”, Blake states, earning herself a dazzling smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait, are you telling me I wasn’t before?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm, let me think”, she strikes a pose worthy of Rodin himself, pretending to contemplate the question. “Nah.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang clutches her chest, tea threatening to spill over as she falls on her knees. “I am hurt, Belladonna. I thought we had something special.”<br/>
<br/>
“You mean the kind of special your doctor thought you were? Or something else?”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay rude, we all know I would have rocked the straight jacket look”, Yang says, climbing up to hand Blake the cup of steaming tea. She clutches onto it on instinct, the warmth not yet familiar enough to recognize as her own.<br/>
<br/>
Yang sits down next to her, leaning down on her knee as she curiously sneaks a peek of Blake’s work, the matrass dipping down to support the both of them. “Did you pick up writing again?”<br/>
<br/>
Blake remembers a previous conversation, her citing a famous author and Yang echoing the words, discovering similarities in between pages. It was almost funny, how lost souls had a habit of losing themselves in other worlds, other lives, a moment of peace before throwing themselves into the ocean again.<br/>
<br/>
She had shown Yang her own poetry, bits and pieces of history, pain hiding in the curves of her handwriting. “<em>I spray painted wings onto my back to grasp that fleeting concept of freedom, didn’t know how to put my heart back where it came from</em>”, Yang had murmured, soft breaths passing her lips in understanding.<br/>
<br/>
Blake glances back to her screen, eyes narrowing in an attempt to focus. “Yeah, I – it helps to write it down.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang fixates her gaze on Blake again, hands clenching into fists and releasing. She knows Blake carries it – misery, rage, guilt – in her shoulders, her collarbone, her smile. She had seen the way Blake flinches away from glass, how her head tucks into her body as if to brace for impact, and she wants to lift it off of her, wants to bury it in a graveyard on a rainy day.<br/>
<br/>
Yang brushes her fingers against Blake’s, trying to provide comfort without locking her in. “That’s good. And if you ever feel the need to talk about what you write about, I will listen.”<br/>
<br/>
I will learn, she vows, I will understand. He never learnt to read between the lines, to hear the cries smothered by a devotion to justice, but I will be there. No matter where you go, I will always find you.<br/>
<br/>
“At least you can read”, Blake says, and it is a tease and a truth wrapped in a bundle, gratitude binding them together<em>. I have never been held gently</em>, she thinks, <em>please don’t mind the edges</em>, and Yang squeezes her hand, adoration assembling words into poetry.<br/>
<br/>
“So Ruby <em>was</em> right”, Yang jokes, and watches as Blake’s laugh rips through the fine lines of the dimension, swears this is where it all began.<br/>
<br/>
Home has always been captured within Blake’s eyes, and she can’t even remember to care about the ghosts haunting them, their connection forged in the mercy of souls. Fear is frozen in this moment, and she almost reaches out, almost brings Blake closer, almost allows their destinies to touch and spill.<br/>
<br/>
Blake sighs, slipping her glasses onto her nightstand. “I have to go, can’t be late on my first day.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang is still stuck on the edgings of gold in the walls, how Blake’s skin abandons hers, how her hand is replaced by lips on her cheek.<br/>
<br/>
She knows where the habit had formed, connects the dots carved into Blake’s tendency to avoid tactility and recounts the adrenaline coursing through her veins while chasing the absent form of Blake’s figure nestled into her bed, her sofa, next to her during breakfast.<br/>
<br/>
Yang had run outside, encountering Blake halfway down to Ruby’s – their – car. An apologetic smile pulled on the corners of her mouth, fingers working through the knots waving in an out of her hair.<br/>
<br/>
“I am sorry, I just – don’t like it when people leave without saying goodbye.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake followed her movements in astonishment, didn’t know how to respond without crying.<br/>
<br/>
<em>I watched you die, </em>she wanted to whisper. You wore a beautiful halo of fire and it was extinguished by the hands of death, cold air gripping onto the breath of the living. You were my soul, and that day I lost my ability to see in colour.<br/>
<br/>
Blake traced her lifelines, touch lingering in an unexplainable, irrefutable way, caution pinning her too tightly to the ground to be able to take the next step.<br/>
<br/>
“I will remember that.”<br/>
<strong><br/>
</strong>And she does.<br/>
<br/>
Her promise pushes them together even more, a scale slowly tipping over the edge. Tai calls and his eyes widen comically as Blake kisses her cheek, a quick goodbye followed by her playfully ruffling Yang’s hair.<br/>
<br/>
Yang smiles casually and gives her a small wave before she closes the door. Blake had kept faithful to her job at the bookstore, set on contributing to their income and – even if she would never admit it - unable to stay that far away from her beloved books.<br/>
<br/>
“Your girlfriend? You two are cute.”<br/>
<br/>
“What? No, Blake is – a friend”, Yang answers, hesitation evident, the smirk on Tai’s face backing her into a corner.<br/>
<br/>
Tai puts up his hands in defence. He would never apologize, but he has adapted to smaller gestures. It is in these moments that Yang can’t stop herself from flashing back to him passed out on the couch, determined to drown himself in misery or alcohol; it’s not like he would have known the difference.<br/>
<br/>
“Wow, you have finally decided to come out of your hole and make new friends?”, Tai says, a low whistle emphasising his words.<br/>
<br/>
Yang grunts, finger hoovering above the <em>End Call </em>button. “Dad, you are breaking up. The signal – it’s not strong enough.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yang Xiao – “<br/>
<br/>
His voice falters as she ends the call, regret aching in her stomach for a second. Her dad hadn’t been up for the Father of the Year Award for <em>years</em> and she still hadn’t forgiven him, but he cared. He promised her he would be there for her, but she couldn’t help but doubt him. <em><br/>
</em><br/>
“That’s hardly appropriate.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss enters her sight of vision, a condescending look accompanying her like a shadow, but it softens when she steps closer to Yang. She knows where Yang’s scars hide, how she is prone to picking up pieces and putting them back together, why empty rooms still scare her.<br/>
<br/>
“Whatever, he will get over it.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss sits next to her, hand folding on top of hers. The zipper of her dress isn’t fully up yet and her hair cascades freely over her shoulders. “I know it’s hard. Forgiving people consists of multiple layers, a variety of phases you have to work through.”<br/>
<br/>
She sighs, the close warmth of her breath more comforting than Yang will ever be able to comprehend. “And you are allowed to take your time, Yang.”<br/>
<br/>
Her hand shifts to Yang’s shoulder, arms wrapping around her neck in a rare moment of vulnerability. Yang immediately pulls her close, the instinct to protect her still buried deep inside of her ribs. She remembers how frail and small Weiss had been when they met, how she had been afraid of touching her and accidentally snapping her in half.<br/>
<br/>
Her hand snakes along Weiss’ zipper, gently pulling it up. “Want me to braid your hair?”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss smiles. “Please, it has been killing me.” She slowly lets go, hand lingering on Yang’s cheek, love spilling from her eyes. “Another thing that has been killing me-“, she continues as she settles with her back slightly against Yang’s chest, “is the undeniable courtship happening between you and Blake.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what you are talking about”, Yang answers, dividing Weiss’ hair into three sections and intertwining them with care. “And”, she interrupts as Weiss opens her mouth, “I don’t want to talk about it.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss scoffs. “What are you going to do, hang up on me?”<br/>
<br/>
“I can and I will. It’s called murder, Weiss.”<br/>
<br/>
Weiss’ hands curl around Yang’s knees, their cold making her shiver. “I would like to see you try”, she says and turns around as Yang fastens her braid. “My meeting is starting in half an hour.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the blinding whiteness of it still surprising to her. She leans forward, softly kissing Weiss’ forehead. “Go save the world, princess.” Weiss leans into her touch, despite rolling her eyes at the nickname.<br/>
<br/>
“Not a princess, and it’s just a meeting you idiot”, Weiss answers while standing up, pulling Yang with her. “We can meet up for lunch if you want? And don’t forget that Ruby’s birthday is rapidly approaching.”<br/>
<br/>
Yang shoves her shoulder and quickly dodges out of Weiss’ reach. “Why is everyone treating me like I am a forgetful old woman?”<br/>
<br/>
“I feel like that was a rhetorical question, so I won’t hurt your feelings.” Yang sticks out her tongue and watches as Weiss grabs her stuff, braid falling down her shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh and Yang, invite Blake”, she adds with a wink, leaving Yang to linger on the purple streaks behind her eyelids.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I think you will still find it to your liking ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>hey</em><br/><br/><em>Ruby’s birthday’s coming up and we’re planning this awesome party at Mista’s<br/><br/>you wanna come?<br/><br/>                                                                                                                                        Depends<br/>                                                                                                                                    <br/>                                                                                                                                        Will you be there?<br/><br/>yah<br/>                                                                                                                                          <br/>                                                                                                                                        Then no<br/><br/>can’t handle me in a dress?</em><strong><br/><br/></strong><em>                                                                                                                                      I can’t handle you in general<br/><br/>oh baby you better shield your eyes then<br/><br/><strong>---<br/><br/></strong></em>“The limo is here!”, Ruby yells from the living room, and Yang extends her hand towards Blake.<br/><br/>Oh, she’s in trouble, Blake realizes. She thought she loved red, but now it is purple when it should have been gold. She doesn’t even understand the underlying expression of status, how they decorate themselves with jewels and fame when they don’t want to carry that burden.<br/><br/>“Appearances”, Yang had said, shrugging her shoulders as if testing the weight.<br/><br/>Her body feels like a crime scene, twisting itself into corners and behind pillars, used to losing herself to spotlights and foreign gods. Blake links their fingers, focusses on the faint perfume lingering in the air and the touches of golden make-up accenting Yang’s eyes, instead of how their hands fit perfectly together, like they were made to be held.<br/><br/>She wonders what it’s like, to be made for love.<br/><br/>Weiss appears in the doorpost, light catching and breaking on the blue streaks of her dress in a way that resembles the ocean. <em>Drowning</em>, Blake thinks, <em>it’s almost a betrayal</em>. Her hair is put up in a bun with a few loose strands framing her face, the logo of The Unity carved into the pin keeping it all together.<br/><br/>The two broken shackles had caused an uproar at their reveal, screams of treason and uprooting society flooding the news. <em>We are trying to unbreak</em>, Adam had said, <em>but some people have stared so much in the mirror they don’t notice the divide anymore.<br/></em><br/>“Were we supposed to go in couples?”, she remarks, the corner of her mouth curving upwards as she examines Blake and Yang. “You should have told me, I would have dressed sluttier.”<br/><br/>“Oh, and who would you be going with, dear Weiss?”, Yang plays along, treading along borders and boundaries. Blake wonders if she has always been like this, confronting danger until the dark couldn’t help but grant her entrance.<br/><br/>Weiss smirks. “Blake.”<br/><br/>“Betrayal!”, Yang gasps, dusting jealousy off her shoulder, but still tightens her hold.<br/><br/>“Weiss is right”<br/><br/>Blake lets go of Yang’s hand and somehow it feels definitive, like she did it before and forgot how to make her way back. She strides to the door and holds onto Weiss’ arm, looking over her shoulder just in time to catch her heart burning in her mouth.<br/><br/>“I mean, we are both runaways, hate people waking us up before 7, not being able to find our stuff, two sisters making a lot of noise in the morning-“<br/><br/>“Okay, I get it”, Yang grumbles, her hands opening and closing in reflex, like they’re trying to understand their emptiness, filling a hole they never dug.<br/><br/>“In short, we’re perfect together”, Weiss finishes, striking a match. “Or do you beg to differ, Yang?”<br/><br/>Yang takes a step closer, pushes her chin forward in a mimic of Weiss, but she isn’t one of cold steel. She just burns and burns, and Blake’s too afraid to touch her, scared of reaching out and turning her into ashes.<br/><br/>“Actually I do, Your Honour.”<br/><br/>Before either of them catches on, Yang has picked up Blake and is storming downstairs with Weiss close on her tail, yelling at Ruby to open the door for them. The latter only sighs and obeys, knowing better than to interfere with their crazy antics.<br/><br/>“We secured the maiden, ma’am”, Yang reports seriously to Ruby.<br/>Ruby half-heartedly gives her a thumbs-up, patting a mourning Weiss on her back. She has opted for a suit, white blouse and red tie clashing and blending. Her aversion towards dresses wasn’t a secret; BuzzFeed had once even assembled a collection of grumpy Ruby’s when she had had no choice but to confirm to dress code.<br/><br/>“I hate this game of emotions we play”, Weiss whines.<br/><br/>“It’ll be okay.”<br/><br/>“I beg your pardon, you-“, Weiss points accusingly at Ruby, “let <em>Nora</em> plan all this! Do you really hate living that much?”<br/><br/>Ruby scoffs, snapping at her fingers. “Nora begged me! And she isn’t that bad.” A pause. “Yeah, I take it back, it was nice knowing you guys.”<br/><br/>Yang drapes an arm around her sister. “At least you made it to 21.” She turns to Weiss and Blake, flashing a toothy grin. “Just imagine the peace and quiet! Not to mention I’d get punched <em>way </em>less.”<br/><br/>To emphasise that point, Ruby plunges her teeth into Yang’s arm.<br/><br/>“You little brat, I don’t care-“<br/><br/>“What’s so bad about Nora’s party planning skills?”, Blake interrupts and Yang rolls her eyes.<br/><br/>“She tried to kill me once by almost dropping a disco ball on my head, which Weiss luckily prevented by giving me a concussion instead!” Yang kisses Weiss on the cheek. “You gotta love your friends.”<br/><br/>“Well, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll just let you die.”<br/><br/>The limo stops in front of a huge bar, <em>Mista’s </em>written on the signboard with neon letters flickering. The bar has a movielike entrance, an archway leading into the main entrance where blue lights drape themselves over the walls.<br/><br/>Blake understands now, how there is such a fine line between art and fate, how they slip their hands around your throat, making you believe you’re blind without touching your eyes. She wants to know what it tastes like, this subtlety, hasn’t lived with the blinds down for a while, forgot the taste of blood on her tongue.<br/><br/><em>I’m okay</em>, she mouths to Yang, who notices she’s lagging behind. The crowd swirls around her and camera’s spin until she can only recognize fangs. Maybe they got tipped off, maybe they can smell fear; however, smiling faces capture her presence, her silhouette a twist in the shadows.<br/><br/>Blake doesn’t belong here, with Yang’s arm around her waist and Ruby and Weiss flanking her. She isn’t a museum, her halls don’t echo in holiness, exhibiting works without canvasses to paint them upon.<br/><br/>Yang leans forward, her lips inches away from Blake’s ear. “If you want to leave, just say the word. I have quite the talent for acting sick.”<br/><br/>“RUBY!”<br/><br/>She retreats out of Blake’s space, eyes drifting to a splash of pink to their right. “Last chance to bail, there’s Nora.”<br/><br/>“I’ll be fine”, Blake answers, grateful for how Yang lowers her voice, builds handles so that she won’t have to fall alone. “Thank you.”<br/><br/>Yang smiles, kissing the top of her head. She doesn’t know what to make of it, where to place its definition, whether to write it down or erase the evidence.<br/><br/>Nora - and two other people Blake recognises from pictures and stories - are seated in one of the private boots of the bar, shrouded in mysterious blue. Lie Ren – Nora’s husband – hands each of them a shot glass as they sit down.<br/><br/><em>You’ll need it</em>, he mouths, gesturing to the empty glasses surrounding Nora.<br/><br/>Nora throws herself around Ruby’s neck. “Happy birthday!” She hugs them too, and Blake is impressed by the severe strength of her hold.<br/><br/>“How have y’all been?”, Jaune asks, pulling Ruby in for a hug of his own.<br/><br/>Blake knows him from his previous work as a politician, but he seems to be but a hollowed-out shell of his former self. There’s an echo in his voice, like he used to live but lost his purpose, keeps breathing but never filling his lungs.<br/><br/>She notices how Ruby’s eyes flicker quickly over the space next to him, but then she smiles and the spell breaks apart<br/><br/>“We’ve been great.” She places her hand on Blake’s shoulder, smiles. “Blake moved in a few months ago and the quality of life has increased with, like, 30 percent.”<br/><br/>“Especially because there’s <em>finally </em>someone who can keep Yang in check”, Weiss says and rolls her eyes at Yang’s scorching look.<br/><br/>Ruby slaps her hand over Yang’s mouth. “Nope, not doing that again.” She locks her hands around her sister’s wrists, drags her down to the ping-pong table in the far left corner of the room. “Nora, you’re with Yang! Jaune, with me!”<br/><br/>Nora pumps her fist in the air and jumps on Yang’s back. “Go team thunder thighs!”<br/><br/>Apparently their tactic consists of Yang throwing the ball up as high as she can, and Nora smashing it down in one of the opposing cups. It’s effective, judging by Ruby and Jaune’s cursing, demanding a referee.<br/><br/>Ren stands up, sighs. “I’ll go manage the children.”<br/><br/>It's quiet for a moment, the both of them observing the drama unfolding at the game.<br/><br/>“I worry about them”, Weiss says, furrowing her brow. “Yang barely makes it out of her office and I haven’t seen Ruby’s shoulders relax in weeks. The elections.. it’s not looking good, especially with-”<br/><br/>“Adam”, Blake answers. “I know.”<br/><br/>“He’s becoming more ruthless, there are board members disappearing and senators suddenly switching sides.” Weiss catches Blake’s gaze, upper lip trembling slightly. “I’m scared. What if we lose? If we can’t stop Adam… Remnant won’t survive another four years of terror. We will be plunged into a civil war we don’t know the consequences of.”<br/><br/>Blake grabs her hand, holds it close to her heart, lets the consistency hang in the air.<br/><br/>“We’ll win. I <em>refuse</em> to give up again. I can-“. She looks out the window, wants to imprint freedom into her memory, into her veins. “I can help. I know Adam, how he thinks, what he desires most.”<br/><br/>Weiss shakes her head immediately. “No, we- <em>you </em>can’t risk it. He’ll be furious, come after you with everything he’s got. We both know Adam doesn’t deal that well with betrayal.”<br/><br/>“Fuck him.”<br/><br/>Weiss blinks in shock, didn’t expect this reaction, her ferocity, the paradox of someone stepping up who built the stairs in the first place. <em>I want to see the stars for myself</em>, Blake thinks, sick of trailing along telescopes without the night to spread her wings in.<br/><br/>“Come on, let’s have some fun!”, Blake says with a smile, leads Weiss to the dance floor, spinning her around until the sound of coins falling doesn’t ring in her head anymore. Weiss is giggling, landing at Blake’s side time and time again without bullets in her back, her veins stretching into shelves, highways.<br/><br/>“How rude, to steal Blake’s first dance when I’m not paying attention.”<br/><br/>They turn around, Blake’s arm still linked around Weiss’ waist. “Aren’t you supposed to be acting as Nora’s talking horse?”, Weiss asks, grins at her own joke.<br/><br/>“They’re getting drinks”, Yang shrugs, teeth flashing as she skips over the insult. “Ruby and Jaune need it, since they’re losing <em>big time.”</em><br/><br/>“Sure”, Blake says, voice dropping down. “So that’s why you ran in shame?”<br/><br/>Yang laughs, leans casually against the wall. “Yeah, I saw the two of you and knew I’d feel understood here.”<br/><br/>“You’re insufferable, I’m getting something strong”, Weiss groans, disappearing to the bar.<br/><br/>Blake and Yang exchange an amused look. They had become quite good at chasing Weiss away, got used to eyes burning in their backs, exasperated sighs following their hearts.<br/><br/>Blake approaches her slowly, wounds her arms around Yang’s neck, moving her hips with the music. “I’ve been dying to dance with you.”<br/><br/>“You could have just asked, you know”, Yang says, lowering her eyes for a second, hands slipping down her waist. “I’d never turn down a chance to dance with a pretty girl.”<br/><br/>Blake blushes and the beat waves through her body. Her heartbeat accelerates in response and she’s enchanted by the sight of Yang, her golden dress swirling around her, wants to give her this light, this song, this world.<br/><br/>Yang’s eyes dart between Blake’s, pulling down like a response to gravity. <em>Fall, </em>it says, and they both obey, discovering change in between their teeth and refusing to cut themselves open on it.<br/><br/>They lean in at the same time, Blake’s breath stoking in the back of her throat. She can feel Yang’s fingers flexing at her hip, count the tiny freckles scattered across her face, see her hand fitting on the slope of her jaw.<br/><br/>It’s heartbreak in its finest, how they clutch onto steering wheels just to ride into the night, how their destiny calls but they can’t hear it cry.<br/><br/>Their noses hover close - inches apart - and Yang swallows, their lips brushing just slightly. Oh, the anatomy of love, how they study their broken bones and declare it a desperation, an inevitability--<br/><br/>“Yang, you asshole! Don’t leave your teammate in the <em>middle </em>of the game!”, Nora yells from the other side of the room, ping-pong ball clenched in her hand.<br/><br/>Blake fixates on her grip on Yang’s dress, wants to cut the universe into strings and wrap it around her fingers, wants to figure out how to draw a map she doesn’t lose.<br/><br/>Yang mumbles an apology, her fingers lingering on Blake’s cheek and it’s not like burning, more of a supernova except she can’t see stars anymore. She spins around and Blake swears the world stops turning; oh, she knows she’s fragile, but never recognised the scarred pattern of love on Yang’s back, can’t open her coat without leaning on sunshine.<br/><br/>Yang touches her with tactility and Blake’s ribs retract their grab on her heart. <em>I don’t think I want to be loved anymore</em>, she had once told Sun, who wrapped his arms around her, giving her everything she had left in a well of lost dreams, everything she didn’t want.<br/><br/>Then there was Yang, who followed all of her movements, stepping back when she tried to get closer, masking a frighteningly familiar look in her eyes without another thought, like a line drawn in the sand.  <br/><br/>Oh love, Blake thinks, rubbing the ground until it only shows open doors; it’s like running your tongue in your mouth just to notice the absence of teeth. <strong><br/><br/><em>---</em><br/><br/></strong>“My dad thought we were dating.” <em><br/><br/></em>Yang’s voice cuts through the room and Blake misses a step.<br/><br/>It’s 10 pm and Yang is still sitting on the couch, eyes stormy and dark. It’s a wonder she’s left her office at all, especially since they had evaded each other after their slip-up, but Blake still caught Yang’s gaze on her from time to time, wanted to tangle her fingers into her hair, burn until they couldn’t disguise as rivers anymore.<br/><br/>Two days. That’s how far they made it.<br/><br/>“What?”, Blake stammers.<br/><br/>Yang sighs, turns her head and meets Blake’s stare. “What’re we doing, Blake? What <em>are </em>we?”<br/><br/>Blake’s thoughts are racing, skipping from war to its aftermath, from crimson red to blinding gold. This is not her style; she’s used to leaving and getting left, turning corners until the lights couldn’t catch her anymore. But this? This is listening to the radio just to hear your own name, painting on signs to guide her heart home.<br/><br/>“I- I don’t know.”<br/><br/>“I thought”, Yang gestures vaguely, “that love wasn’t meant for me. I didn’t believe in it anymore, didn’t even want to see it. But I believe in you. I believe in us.”<br/><br/>Blake sits next to Yang, interlaces their fingers without hesitation. Her eye falls on Yang’s right arm, the friendship bracelets she had gotten the four of them reminding her of vows, of being lost in a crowd and only being able to see lilac.<br/><br/>“Love hasn’t been kind to me, and I am scared. You-“, Blake shivers slightly, “You make me want to tear the whole universe apart just to keep holding your hand.”<br/><br/>“You won’t have to, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise”, Yang says in a soft voice, thumb rubbing circles on Blake’s hand.<br/><br/>Blake realizes it there, words she’ll one day want to engrave on her skin, let the ink drench in between her bones, remind her of eternity whenever her hands feel empty: life’s purpose is where you look for it, and for Blake, oh for Blake, she finds it every time she looks up, finds it in late nights falling asleep in Yang’s arms on the couch, finds it in waking up in her own bed and Ruby shoving pictures under her nose.<br/><br/>Her eyes dart between Yang’s, her hand enclosing her jaw and she leans forward, slowly, so slowly. Yang’s arms fall to her waist, palming her hips in a way that makes Blake want to build palaces, castles, whatever proves to be high enough to ignite her just like Yang does.<br/><br/>Their lips meet, hesitant at first, exploring unknown territory like a deer crosses the street for the first time. It’s adrenaline injected straight into her veins, but somehow she’s calmer than she has ever been, knows now she can turn around without leaving something behind.<br/><br/>She tastes like the last day of summer, and Blake has always loved sunrays dripping down on her like a last wave goodbye, holds her like the coast embraces the ocean, strong and unwavering, a safe place to run to in the dark.<br/><br/>They break apart, Yang’s breath lingering on her cheek.<br/><em><br/></em>“Stay with me tonight”, Yang murmurs, Blake’s lips trailing her words. “I don’t want to be alone.”<br/><br/>Blake retreats slightly, holds Yang’s gaze, lilac blurring and mending and falling. Thoughts are running through her head, possibilities weighted, menaces counted.<br/><br/>“Of course”, she answers, and for once the promise doesn’t carve itself into her ribs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for being mia, hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blake wakes up slowly, her ears flicker and she blinks against the whiplash. Yang is pressed into her back, one of her legs lazily thrown across Blake’s hips, like she couldn’t get close enough, like fire to the ember.<br/><br/>She turns her head, basking in sunlight and soft snoring. The right strap of Yang’s tank top had slipped down and Blake audibly swallows, tracing kisses from her jaw to her cheekbone, worshipping skin until it becomes a religion.<br/><br/>Yang stirs and stretches, opening one eye. “Hey there, beautiful.”<br/><br/>Blake smiles, tucks some of her hair back behind her ear. “I didn’t know that’s how you greet yourself every morning.”<br/><br/>“Someone has to compliment me, might as well be me.”<br/><br/>Blake laughs, reaches over Yang and grabs one of the magazines on the bedside table. “If you want to, I can read you your feature in Vogue. <em>Yang Xiao Long, architect of a nation and stealer of our hearts.” </em>She raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”<br/><br/>“Those people get payed to praise me, so it doesn’t really count.”<br/><br/>“Well, they aren’t the only ones”, Blake says dryly, dodging the pillow aimed at her head.<br/><br/>Yang untangles their legs and plops on her back, sighing dramatically. I wasn’t looking to be lost until I found you, Blake thinks, tracing imaginary lines back to her heart. She doesn’t remember when it happened, when she broke character, forgot her itinerary and instead went straight into Yang’s arms.<br/><br/>“Ruby!”, Blake calls, knowing she’ll be able to hear her from miles apart. “Your sister needs an ego boost!”<br/><br/>“Can’t give her one right now, we do have food!”, Ruby’s voice sounds from the kitchen and Blake laughs when she sees Yang’s pout, kissing it away without a second thought.<br/><br/>She pulls back and relishes in the way Yang’s eyelashes linger on her cheeks, how lilac flutters and shifts her perspective. It’s not about blame, about her; it’s them, it’s creating an us until they can’t imagine walking without a hand to hold.<br/><br/>Yang nuzzles into her neck, lazily pressing her lips to every patch of skin she encounters. “You hungry?”<br/><br/>Blake’s gaze darkens, like smoke covering water, a volcano smouldering in the distance. She allows her fingers to dip down to Yang’s stomach for a second, memorizes its movements, the pattern of breathing.<br/><br/>She swallows and Blake breaks the tension with a grin, removes her hand, knowing Yang will follow. She pauses for a second, creeps closer, examines how Yang’s hair curls around the tips of her fingers.<br/><br/>“Always”, Blake whispers, leaves Yang standing in the doorpost.<br/><br/>Entering the kitchen, she’s graced with the sight of Ruby baking pancakes and Weiss opening the blinds. Ruby turns around, smiles as Blake kisses her hair.<br/><br/>‘Did Yang recover from her fatal ego-injury?”<br/><br/>Blake falls back into masks, the corners of her mouth curving into a downwards spiral. “It was too late, the wound too severe to have been left without treatment that long.”<br/><br/>Ruby mirrors her expression, flipping one of the pancakes with a soft <em>thud</em>. “I’ll always remember her, like hearing her voice every morning berating me for stealing her pancakes, or-”<br/><br/>“I’m still alive!”<br/><br/>Ruby sighs. “Or her refusing to believe she died.”<br/><br/>Yang appears next to them, leaning on the counter with one hand, the other resting at her hip. “I hate all of you.”<br/><br/>Blake and Ruby gasp in unison, sprinting to her side. Ruby hangs onto Yang’s left arm, Blake cradling her face, brows furrowed in concern. “How could this happen? Did you get back in one piece, all your limbs attached and functioning?”<br/><br/>“<em>Yes”, </em>Yang answers, playfully pushing Blake to the side. “I wouldn’t just drop my right arm on my way to the kitchen, it’s a bit too precious.<br/><br/>“And I wouldn’t normally eat burnt pancakes, but right now it seems like I won’t have a choice”, Weiss’ voice sounds from behind them, arms crossed and disappointed glare sketched onto her face.<br/><br/>Ruby jumps off Yang’s back and grabs a plate for the pancakes. She quickly drowns one of them in syrup, devouring it before one of them even makes it to their chairs. She starts rambling about some new project, but Blake can’t tear her eyes away from Yang, her hair glowing like a halo and she’s still building wings, gluing heaven together and calling it love.<br/><br/>Weiss catches her staring and blood creeps up, setting her face aflame, but she only smiles.<br/><br/>It’s a curious situation, how Weiss’ back always covers Ruby and Yang, leaves Blake wondering what else she sacrificed to straighten her spine, why she chose to keep breaking just to open her coat for others.<br/><br/>Weiss scrapes her throat, eyes cast down. “We’re visiting Pyrrha today, do you want to come with us?”, she asks, and Blake thinks of bullets and how flowers wither before you can fully take them in, her shoulders tensing up.<br/><br/>Yang grabs her hand under the table, gives it a soft squeeze, like she recognizes the dust settling on the plate, wants to keep it from interrupting its song.<br/><br/>“Yes”, Blake answers, vision fixed on the sun rising.<br/><br/><strong><em>---</em></strong><br/><br/>Yang parks the car right next to a huge magnolia tree in full bloom, and Blake can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. It’s almost ironic, how life flourishes next to its counterpart, skeleton hands enclosing flower tips.  <br/><br/>“It’s beautiful”, she says, turns to see Yang staring at her with a dumb smile.<br/><br/>“Yeah”, Yang answers, shifts her hand along Blake’s jaw and presses their lips together in a soft kiss, slow and heartfelt.<br/><br/>Blake’s fingers tangle in Yang’s hair, tugging slightly and Yang naps at her bottom lip as a warning. You’ve won, Blake wants to tell her, wants to grab her hands and hide from the world as long as possible. This is ours, she wants to scratch into crashed train cars, wants to lay it in the shadows like a forgotten childhood.<br/><br/>Yang smiles and Blake wonders if she understands, if she feels the claws hacking into her back. If it bothers her at all.<br/><br/>They follow the path leading further along ghosts and memories, flowers resting on top of most of them. Sometimes Blake wonders if they’re not the same after all. Yang had linked their hands, the silence pressing down on their shoulders.<br/><br/>Blake recounts the story, how a fairy tale took a dark turn and ended in ruins, how it forced her to slightly open her eyes.<br/><br/>“How long has it been?”<br/><br/>She knows the answer, knows how it’s drenched in rain, how she stood next to Adam at the funeral, how she couldn’t help but register every turn of his mouth.<br/><br/>“3 years”, Ruby murmurs, facing the open sky and it’s like going to war.<br/><br/>Petals twirl around them and for one second she imagines living without the guilt, realises it would be an empty life. How ironic, how we get assigned these burdens and make them a part of ourselves.<br/><br/>“Pyrrha had her future all planned out, set her sights on becoming a politician in order to make the world a better place. She showed us pictures of when she was 5 years old, all dressed up and practicing speeches”, Yang says with a weak smile.</p><p>Blake finally places the scars traced on her skin, how she must have dug them into whatever vein easiest to kill in a hopeless attempt to get back what she lost.<br/><br/>“We lost our friend and we’ll never get her back,” Yang says, bitter scent chasing the sharpness of her teeth. “But we owe it to her to keep trying, to make sure she won’t be just another name on a gravestone, another victim to shove forward as a weapon.”<br/><br/>“Pyrrha never wanted to be a martyr. She wanted peace and equality, she wanted to be the last bit of hope left in Pandora’s box”, Ruby continues, her silver eyes sparking with resolve.<br/><br/><em>I will leave a light on, </em>she seems to vow. <em>Even if darkness is all we know, I’ll be there. </em><br/><br/>“Jaune – he couldn’t take it. He broke down, shattered himself and labelled it a sacrifice.” Weiss’ voice trembles, and it feels like staring into headlights. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like, reaching for something just to remember you have nothing to reach for anymore.”<br/><br/>Blake reaches out to the words engraved in the pedestal, envisions young hearts bleeding out. A leaf swirls around her, coming to a halt just before her.<br/><br/>“Adam hated Pyrrha. She was one of the few people who dared to stand against him, but for some reason I couldn’t blow her off like he did.” Blake lets out a sigh, rips apart her own veil. “Pyrrha cared and I- I’m so sorry for what happened to her.”<br/><br/>Ruby melts, curls the rough ends of loss into roads, feet stuck on moving forward. “It wasn’t your fault. And hey, you never blew me off either! That’s one point for team Ruby!”<br/><br/>Forgiveness still leaves a weird taste in her mouth, like waking up in the middle of the night with the sun out, like taking pictures but always deleting them. She forces a grin, slaps Ruby on her arm.<br/><br/>“You have those insufferable puppy eyes.”<br/><br/>Ruby frowns. “I feel like you’re insulting me.”<br/><br/>“I’d never dare to.”<br/><br/>“Today in season 6 episode 9 of Ruby losing trust in human beings-“, Ruby exclaims dramatically, cut off by Weiss’ hand slamming over her mouth, sound lost in translation.<br/><br/>“Shut up, you two are like a living headache.”<br/><br/>It hits Blake, right then and there, his voice somewhere caught on a tree. The scenes play out right before her eyes, like she stepped back into history and can’t open other doors anymore, like a shot fired but it never started moving and she can’t remember which way to fall, how to stand by the side-lines.<br/><br/>The skeleton appears in the corner, twirls its dice between its fingers. A reminder, a prophecy, but Blake’s done with mysteries and cards and archers and whatever has to do with knowledge and the lack of it, how innocence is a coin that somehow always lands on its back.<br/><br/>Her head drops, eyes fixed on the ground, counting blades of grass until the world spins and she sees right through her own reflection.<br/><br/>“I-‘, Blake stammers, flinches when Yang tries to get closer. “I need some time.”<br/><br/>She turns on her heel, basically running back to the car. Weiss places a hand on Yang’s shoulder, knowing what it’s like to encounter your past without a blindfold, not sure which direction to take, which mask to don.<br/><br/>“She’ll come back”, Weiss promises.<br/><br/>She draws Yang into a hug, her hand enclosing the back of her head like Yang had done for her countless times before. It feels different somehow, to become the protector instead of the young bird learning how to use its wings, never realising how deep it could breathe without drowning.<br/><br/>“I know”, Yang answers, words sculpting sorrow in its purest form, and Weiss knows, oh she knows.<br/><br/>Yang’s so used to picking up pieces, but right now she can’t even fathom where to start digging for remnants, whose blood to cover for, where to place her grief.<br/><br/>Weiss looks down and studies her own hands, can’t stop herself from seeing the blood dripping down, fathoms how it engulfs Blake, how she defies gravity just by standing on the other side of faith.<br/><br/>Weiss knows, and Blake does too.<br/><br/>Sometimes you have to open your eyes to fear, let it hold you until you can’t remember loneliness and its definition, how it takes and takes and takes but doesn’t stop at the pulse of your heart, and the only thing to do is lock the car doors and follow its roads.<br/><br/><strong><em>---<br/><br/></em></strong>“Hey.”<br/><br/>Blake snaps her eyes open, head tucked in towards her chest. Yang is behind her, her arms light and open, and Blake doesn’t get how she manages it, how she can keep a straight face even though panic is around them.<br/><br/>The aftertaste of broken love keeps poisoning her judgement, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. It’s a ritual, a pattern, something to focus on in the night after the screaming, the dreaming, control slipping away from her hands.<br/><br/>“Blake, it’s okay”, Yang says in a soft voice, reaching for her hand and unfurling her fingers one by one, the warmth of her touch chasing empty shards back into caves. “I’m here, you’re safe.”<br/><br/>Blake sobs, tremors travelling down her spine and Yang pulls her close.<br/><br/>It's hard, hiding the ruins people leave, to keep up with the circle of goodbyes. And she’s scared, so scared, of letting go and discovering she just wasn’t made for forever, can’t encounter love without its thorns, without questioning whether their eyes are a lighthouse or a shipwreck.<br/><br/>“I wanted my pain to be touchable”, she whispers, scars bleeding through her voice. “Like a bullet hole on the wall, but without the blood on the edges. Real, but distant. Dangerous, but safe.”<br/><br/>“Baby”, Yang breathes, clutches tighter onto Blake’s frame.<br/><br/>“But-”, Blake continues, voice growing monotone, like she ripped off the band aid and doesn’t know how to bleed anymore. “It doesn’t work like that, right? You can’t step forward without dusting off your soles.”<br/><br/>Yang tugs her back a few inches, hand coming to rest on her cheek. Her irises are glimmering, a flashlight turning into a sunset. <strong><br/><br/></strong>“Falling down is a part of freedom, Blake. You’re allowed to hurt, you’re allowed to feel the weight of your past-“<br/><br/>“You don’t get it!”, Blake exclaims, terror hiding under her nails. “He’s still out there, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants! And that-“, she shakes her head to emphasize her point, “means nothing good for anyone.”<br/><br/>Yang tugs a strand of hair behind her ear. “Blake.”<br/><br/><em>Blake</em><br/><br/>It's a beacon, a focus, a reminder of her humanity. Yang’s voice sounds like a reckless jump into the ocean, the wave and the buoy at the same time.<br/><br/>“We’re family, and we’ll never leave you. We are there for the long-run, baby, and we’ll show Adam who he’s up against.”<br/><br/>Blake swallows, leftover tears covering the ground. She crosses her arms, holding her ribs together like a prison, and hates how she still hasn’t changed. She looks up, debates her next words as she crosses Yang’s smouldering gaze, but she has to, has to pay off her debt.<br/><br/>“What if he’s the one who killed Pyrrha?”<br/><br/>Yang tenses up, fire flashing into her eyes, left hand clenching into a fist, but she quiets it down. “Then that’s even more reason to give him hell.”<br/><br/>“Promise?”, Blake asks, hates how her voice closes in on her.<br/><br/>Yang extends her pink and Blake links them together. “I promise.”</p>
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